


all systems go

by wethethousands (atlantisairlock)



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Ambition, F/F, Girl Power, Minor Violence, Women In Power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 04:23:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2759501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/wethethousands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's been a lone wolf since she got made. She'll be a lone wolf till the day she dies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all systems go

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song by box car racer.

She's a threat, that's all Diaz is. Sure, they call it a family, but that's not the most apt description Amy's ever heard. A Nine-Nine or not, there'll be a gun in her face when a full-scale mafia war breaks out and she won't hesitate to shoot back. 

She's been a lone wolf since she got made. She'll be a lone wolf till the day she dies. 

Or at least that's what she thought. 

 

 

Rosa Diaz is the second Nine-Niner who's a woman. In the week after she's made, she gets a few sneers and disparaging comments from fellow made men. A shattered collarbone here and a few severed toes there, and not only do the Nine-Niners know not to mess with their newest made woman, Amy knows she's got another formidable rival up the alley. She muscles in on Diaz's territory, tears down two bookie businesses and Diaz puts up with it for two weeks before she taps on Amy's bedroom window at four in the afternoon staring daggers at her. "We need to talk." 

The moment Amy opens the window she's got a gun against Diaz's temple. "Right. Talk."

The other woman shrugs, reaching into her pocket and lighting a cigarette. She settles herself comfortably on the ledge like it belongs to her, unfazed by the imminent possibility of getting shot through the head. "All right, Santiago. I know what the hell you've been doing, and you need to stop that shit. I'm not trying to mess with you. I'm not going to steal your business. I'm not a threat, okay? I know the big guns are ruthless, and any Nine-Niner would turn their Glock on you to save their asses, but I won't." Diaz pauses. "Santiago, I broke Peralta's leg because he threw me one pick-up line. Do you know why I haven't sunk you into the ocean for fucking with me?"

Despite herself, Amy asks. "Why?"  

"Because we're two women in a maze of back alleys and iron thrones ruled by men. We have to stick together." Diaz takes a long drag off her cigarette and smirks lazily over at Amy. "I've got your back, Santiago."

Amy blinks once, inclining her head. She doesn't trust easily. Nobody worth their salt in the families does. "I don't need your help."

Diaz has the gall to look amused. "I'm not offering you my help." 

 _No_ , Amy realises. She's not. 

 

 

Diaz offers something...  _else._

She comes to understand this when she's cornered by ten Aces and Diaz's motorbike comes flying over the formidable brick wall, skidding into two of Amy's attackers and knocking them down. She tosses Amy a submachine and the tide turns in a mere minute. Amy's got ten men at her knees, cowering, and it isn't till she's got them trussed up and thrown into a dumpster that she realises Diaz just stood by and watched, and let Amy fight her own battle.

She's not offering her help.

She's offering power. 

 

 

They don't keep score, that's not how they play, but Amy figures that over the course of a year they're even - Diaz saves her ass as many times as Amy saves hers. They rise up the ranks, and they're becoming better known around the city, feared and respected as Santiago and Diaz. A pair. A whole. People know not to mess with them, and perhaps that's why Diaz sits Amy down and lays the plan out in the simplest terms. 

"We're going to take over the mafia and we're going to rule this town. All the money, fame, power, influence? It's going to be ours."

Amy leans back in her chair and smirks at Diaz, spinning a pen in her fingers. "Ours? We?"

"A queen doesn't rule alone."

And that sends a chill down Amy's spine, in the best way. 

 

 

It takes them seven years, over a million dollars in various expenses and their hands are stained with blood that they'll never be able to wash off.

But why would they want to?

People are already plotting to overthrow them, she knows. Sooner or later, whether it's tomorrow or in thirty years, there'll be a bloodbath, and power will change hands once again. 

But for now, she's got the reins in one hand and Diaz's fingers tangled in the other. It will never be enough, and she will always be hungry for more, but for the briefest moment, she is content. 


End file.
